Of First Dates and Forevers
by MomentarySetback
Summary: She was not sleeping with Eric on their first date. Definitely, definitely not. Funny how she kept having to remind herself of that. / Takes place a few days after 7x14 Smoke Gets In Your CSIs.


_Note: I know I have stories to wrap up, but sometimes an idea just pops into your head and won't leave you alone. This is the result. :) And a HUGE thank you to my friend CarolinaDawn for the last few words of this, which then inspired the title. I sent this to her with a note that I still had to tidy up the end, and she came up with the perfect last two words._

 _I have a week left of freedom before I start a grad school program, so I am hoping to take full advantage and both finish Truth Is A Whisper and post a new story. Definitely keep your eyes peeled!_

* * *

She was _not_ sleeping with Eric on their first date. Definitely, definitely not.

Funny how she kept having to remind herself of that. Because when he was looking at her the way he was, it became a little harder to think about sending him home with an innocent goodnight kiss and easier to wonder what his skin would feel like beneath her fingertips and how good he was in bed. And she had a feeling it would be really, really good given that her entire body shuddered when he so much as held her hand to remove a piece of glass or looked at her the right way, which was pretty much any way...and god, why had it taken them so long to give in?

But suddenly they weren't really wasting any time. She'd come in that morning last week to find those truffles on her desk and hadn't been able to wipe the grin off her face, not even when he'd come to grab her to answer a call.

" _Good morning." He grinned back, watching as she locked away the first gun she'd test-fired that morning and closed out of the software on her computer._

" _It is a good morning," she said coyly, eyes drifting to the truffles now tucked away next to her keyboard. "Thank you."_

" _You're welcome," he said simply, honestly. Their eyes locked in the silence that followed, wondering, waiting… He swallowed a little nervously; they were also at work, and there was a crime scene waiting for them in Coral Gables. Maybe they could talk on the way. "You wanna ride together to meet Frank?"_

" _Yeah, let me get my kit," she said, snapping her gloves off and tossing them into the trash. And then without pause, she asked in return, "You wanna grab dinner tonight?"_

 _He'd thought she was going to say something about work, and when the words registered they completely caught him by surprise. He stumbled a little over his response, pausing, searching her eyes before could actually formulate words. "Yeah, of course."_

Only they'd never gotten their date that day. The next few days had been a whirlwind of chaos and emotion after the fire and her collapse. And the fallout of nearly losing her had him acting like they were a thousand dates in instead of zero, leaving his watch on her and spending as much of the next few days as he could by her side. Then he'd taken her home from the hospital, cooking her food and keeping an eye on her despite her protests. And even though none of that had been a real date and he'd ceased to do anything but hold her hand and wrap her in a comforting hug or two, it had all managed to crumble what little of her guard was up when it came to him.

That and all of the emotions that had been unearthed amid all the coddling and caretaking were making their overdue date a little more intense than it would've been last week. They'd met at her place and walked to one of their favorite restaurants – a cozy little tapas place off the boardwalk in Bal Harbour – and now they were slowly making their way back for a drink at her place, taking the scenic route through the parks and strips that lined the shore. Their coziness at dinner – thighs touching as they sat adjacent to one another, arms brushing, her hand touching his leg once or twice – had led to his hand finding hers on their walk home.

Calleigh had spotted someone walking out of an ice cream shop with a decadent cone of mint chocolate chip topped with fudge sauce and chocolate chunks that she'd had to have, and now she had one of her own dripping onto her hand. He was unsurprised by the graceful way in which she dipped her tongue out to catch the runaway ice cream from her hand, but a little surprised by just how much the innocent gesture made the hairs on the back of his neck stand.

"What?" she asked at the amused way he was looking at her, tangled fingers squeezing his.

"Nothing," he insisted, chuckling as he nodded to the cone. "I didn't realize you had such a sweet tooth."

"You're kidding, right?" She gave him a wide-eyed, surprised look before she returned her attention to the cone, lapping up the last of the fudge from the outer layer. "I raid Valera's chocolate stash almost every day. I mean, not lately…" she trailed off, giving him a special, grateful smile for the truffles she'd slowly been making her way through as an afternoon pick-me-up.

And now with this ice cream. He smirked as he watched her, reveling in the new knowledge that his very put-together, very sensible, very attractive coworker that he had arguably way more than a crush on also had a very adorable weakness for chocolate.

Taking note of him staring, she teased, "I thought you didn't want one."

He nibbled at the inside of his cheek, because they had definitely not crossed any sort of threshold that would take them into a world where he could openly admit it wasn't the ice cream he wanted. So instead he was silent, leading her to extend the cone to him to offer up a bit of her precious dessert.

He could've passed on the ice cream, but he definitely wanted an excuse to touch her, so his fingers gently curved around her wrist to hold her hand steady as he leaned down for a taste. She watched him with a smile, trying to ignore the heat that spread through her as he grew closer, as more of his skin touched hers. Because just the other week the weight of the emotional and physical tension between them had come to a head and become so confusing she'd had to ask him what he wanted, and now they were having dinner and holding hands and sharing ice cream cones.

"Okay, that's pretty good," he admitted, fingers reluctantly releasing her. Judging by her fading smile, she felt similarly about the loss of contact despite the fact that his other hand still held hers. That, along with the fact that even with the beautiful backdrop of the ocean behind her, he couldn't get over the green-blue of her eyes, finally gave him the courage he needed to lay a hand over her waist and lean into her.

She smiled as he brought their joined hands to her waist at her other side, backing her up until she was gently pressed against the guard rail of the boardwalk. Her eyes couldn't stop dancing between his eyes and his lips, and when he'd finally begun to lean down she freed her non-ice cream wielding hand to run her palm up his abdomen to his chest, tugging on a fistful of his shirt until his lips met hers.

Her eyes fluttered closed, their mouths melding like they were meant to until his lips slid against hers, tugging at her top lip before he tilted his head enough to taste her deeper. For a first kiss, there was no hesitancy or stumbling; there wasn't even a moment of figuring one another out. There was only the eager but slow melding and parting of lips, the assured glide of his hand from her waist to the small of her back, the threading of his fingers through her hair as he cupped her head and tilted her chin for better access, and the smoothing of her palm up his chest until she found the bare skin of his neck.

After another press and slide of lips, he parted, lips lingering as they both breathed in before she pushed up onto her toes to press a shorter, softer kiss to his mouth. Her body was already reacting, legs tingling, stomach pitching and going weightless at the soft brush of his fingertips as they slipped from her neck, at the way his dark and heavy eyes met hers in the glow of dusk.

Nope. Not sleeping with him, she reminded herself. Definitely not.

"You're melting," he said softly, his voice already low and gravelly with desire. That, and the comfortable, casual way he'd moved his hand to rest his fingertips against her hip had her blinking as she struggled to think of anything else. "Your ice cream," he explained, and her eyes reluctantly drifted to the cone in her hand that was beginning to pool with a sea of melted mint chocolate chip that was dangerously close to overflowing.

Her lips curved as she sipped the last of the melted ice cream, finishing the cone off shortly after they'd resumed their walk home. When they finally made it to the walkway of her house, she was a ball of indecision. Earlier there was talk of having another drink, but she had this all at once exhilarating and anxiety-inducing feeling that if he came in, he wouldn't leave. And she kept telling herself that despite the fact that her body – and maybe her heart, if she were honest with herself – was screaming for him to stay, her brain was sending mixed messages.

"So," she began, slowly putting one foot in front of the other as they reached her stoop. It was lined with flowers, and being the southern belle that she was, he wasn't at all surprised that she had a penchant for growing pretty things.

"Still want that drink?" he started for her, and she watched with a smile at how casual the words were coming from his lips. It was probably just a drink. Probably.

"I do," she said honestly as she nervously turned the key over in her hand and looked back at the door. "But, um…" Her brows furrowed as she searched for the words – eloquent ones, preferably, that wouldn't make it seem like she thought he was going to jump her the moment they went inside.

As usual, he calmed her nerves, this time with a nervous chuckle and reassuring words. "Just a drink," he promised, raising his hands up in mock surrender. They had been friends for a long time and had worked together for longer, and he was well aware of the nerves and hesitation and a billion other emotions all balled up into any decisions they made about their relationship. "We can just keep talking, I promise."

She grinned, wondering if that was a promise he could keep given the way his eyes lit up as they playfully held hers. Of course he could, she reminded herself. This was the Eric who'd mostly repressed his feelings for her for at least two years now, maybe longer. There were a million times he could've made a move, or told her how he really felt and what he really thought about Jake, but he hadn't.

"Thanks," she said softly, nervously averting her eyes – but not before they'd drawn over the outline of his muscular shoulders and flitted back over his gorgeous skin and the rather sexy two or three day stubble covering his face. "But it's not you I'm worried about."

She bit her lip, and though she was trying to avoid his gaze she couldn't help but meet it when he caught her eyes. His heart was completely on his sleeve, gaze as intense as it had been when he'd told her he didn't want to forget their conversation about how much she meant to him and how she'd read his file.

All this time, he'd been pining for her without much indication of how she felt about him. She kept things close to the chest, and if it hadn't been for the heated glances and little slips revealing the growing chemistry between them, along with her more-than-friendly concern for him lately, he might've spent a lot longer wondering if his feelings for her were unrequited.

But the knowledge that she was concerned about her ability to keep herself in check with him in her home was almost too much for him. It meant she may have been more sure of her feelings – or at least her attraction – for him than he ever could've dreamed. And it had him taking a steadying breath and actually breaking their gaze before it became too much.

"Well," he began, having to clear his throat a little before he continued with a nervous laugh. "Now I'm worried about me, too, so...maybe we should take a rain check."

She nodded slowly, but she couldn't help the smile that crept across her lips at the effect that had had on him. She wasn't particularly reserved in relationships, but she was at work, and up until very recently he'd only been included in the latter category. "Maybe."

Stepping closer to her door, she turned the key in the lock and pushed it open. When she turned back to him, if she hadn't already known what would happen deep in her heart, the adorable conflict of want, regret, guilt, and complete respect for her etched all over his face probably would've changed her mind anyway. Decidedly taking his hands in hers, she tugged him across the threshold and into her home, taking a little joy in the mix of hesitation and mischievous smirk now highlighting his features.

"Calleigh…" he warned, taking in the sight of her in that navy cargo dress for the hundredth time that night as she backed them up into her foyer, shutting the door behind them.

She pulled their joined hands to her sides, using his palms as leverage to push up onto her toes and capture his lips with hers in response. His brows furrowed with conflict as he immediately sunk into the kiss, fingers squeezing hers. This time was all her: her lips cradling his top one, her hand running over the rough stubble littering his cheek before cupping the back of his neck, her body pressing against his. But he gave in quickly, newly freed hands exploring her waist, her hips, and the rather lovely dip of her back he currently couldn't get enough of.

Aimlessly urging him further inside, she backed up in search of something to steady herself until she'd bumped against the doorjamb to her kitchen. Fingers dipping beneath his shirt, she followed the curve of his hip up to his waist, tugging his body closer to hers until his hips had pressed against hers. A little breath of approval escaped her parted lips at the contact, which sent heat coursing through his veins and made his eyes darken as they slowly found hers. The little noise and her fingers coursing over his bare skin awakened something within him, and this time his lips crashed back into hers, hands carefully supporting her head and slipping through her hair.

But a moment later, when he couldn't get closer, his hands gripped her hips and led her into the kitchen, groaning when her tongue dipped out to meet his. Hands growing bolder, he followed the curve of her hip and backside until he'd found her thighs. With a shift of his weight, he picked her up and urged her onto the edge of the counter, where she was now just slightly taller than him and her soft skin was more readily at his disposal. Taking full advantage, he trailed his lips along her jaw, brushing soft blonde hair from her neck so he could head there next. She tilted her head in acquiescence, sighing when his tongue darted out over a particularly sensitive spot at the base of her throat.

Bodies already flush, she arched into him a little more, her thighs hugging his hips and her dress creeping further up her legs. She smiled when she realized that even in the precarious position they were in – him settled between her spread legs, her dress inching further and further up her thighs – his hands hadn't really wandered since the rush that had led him to scoop her up. One was in her hair, the other maintaining neutral ground just above her knee, smoothing over her skin at an imaginary boundary and occasionally cupping the back of her leg to urge her closer. Stealing his hand from her knee, she decidedly moved it higher on her thigh. He sighed at the contact, lips brushing over her pulse point, but he still only splayed his hand across her skin, fingertips gently pressing into her for a moment as he obviously fought for control.

"Eric," she whispered softly, disappointed when he pulled away after suckling just above her collarbone and rested his hands against the counter.

"Sorry." He pressed another, seemingly final kiss to her lips and then rested his nose against hers, his breath fanning over her lips and cheek. She smiled again, this time just as amused because she'd realized he thought she was stopping him. "We were gonna have a drink," he mumbled, and she laughed at his attempt to keep them on track, his shoulders rising and falling each time he took in a deep, steadying breath.

In response, she confidently slipped her hands beneath the hem of his shirt, running her fingers over the firm muscles in his abdomen and feeling them contract beneath her skin. Biting her lip, she let her palms coast around his waist until they settled on his back, where she could urge him impossibly closer as she scooted forward.

"I don't want a drink, I want you to touch me wherever you want to," she said, taking in the moment he pulled back to meet her eyes and looked like he'd been suckerpunched with emotion and desire. That look kind of did her in, and she tilted her head a little as her fingers trailed up and down along one side of his spine. "If you want to…"

"I do," he assured, scoffing at even the thought of _not_ wanting to continue. "I just...a minute ago we were debating whether I should even come inside. I don't want to rush anything."

"I know." She rolled her eyes at how things had steamrolled, but more so at how silly it was to think they could continue on like a normal first date – like they hadn't been friends for eight years, hadn't wanted each other for years, like he hadn't waited two years for her and that she hadn't read in his file that he wanted to settle down with her… "But this has been a long time coming," she admitted, eyes dancing over his features. "I know you. We've known each other a long time."

"Yeah," he agreed softly, holding her gaze with the weight of emotion in his. "It's different."

It was a lot of things, they both realized silently. It was like they were just beginning when they were already in so deep neither of them knew how to stay above water, and it was surprisingly okay. It was like it had become suddenly easy to break protocol and IAB rules and put the team at risk because they'd reached a point where it couldn't _not_ happen. It was like he somehow knew he was going to fall in love with her – or maybe he already had.

She swallowed hard, everything they weren't saying in each other's eyes as she nodded. "Yeah…"

And then he grinned, running his fingers from her collarbone up to the back of her neck and watching her lean into his touch. Grabbing a fistful of his shirt, she tugged and guided his lips back to hers as his hand wrapped around to cup the back of her neck. When his other hand finally returned to her thigh, this time gliding over the revealed skin and prickling goosebumps over her skin as he let his fingers roam to the soft, sensitive underside of her thigh, she smiled against his lips.

So maybe she was going to sleep with Eric tonight. It wasn't really a first date, anyway.

"Nothing has to happen," he reminded, still needing her to know and needing to take the pressure off a little.

She laughed softly, stealing a rather heated kiss from his lips as one hand traced the v from his hip to belt and then back up. "Is that what you want?" she asked, making his fingertips sink into her skin with faltering, apparently pointless resolve.

Well, he thought as his head dipped to the other side of her neck, two could play this game.

"No," he said honestly, his warm breath tickling her skin. Pressing his lips to the edge of her jaw, he began a trail down as his hand on her thigh trailed up, slipping beneath her dress. Her breath caught and as his lips brushed over her pulse point, he paused, tongue darting out to flick over it. "I want to make you feel good," he admitted, feeling her tense against him as he left heated, open-mouthed kisses over the base of her throat.

She felt her stomach drop and a slow burn of heat begin to radiate from her center, and if his words hadn't been enough, he pulled back enough for his heavy, darkened eyes to meet hers. He captured her lips slowly, teasingly, letting his tongue brush across her lip. His hand careened up her thigh, reaching as far up as her buttoned dress would allow, which was just enough for his thumb to run along the silky material at her hip. "Want to taste you," he murmured against her parted lips, leaving little open to interpretation as his thumb slipped beneath the material and traced a circle around her hip.

He felt a shudder course through her body and grinned as she hooked her legs around his, capturing his lips as her hips pitched against his. He was about to let out a little noise of disapproval when her hands slipped from his skin, but then he realized she was pushing the belt loose from the buckle at her waist in response and invitation. When he did nothing but pull back to meet her eyes, her fingers moved to the top button of her dress next, pushing it through as a little smirk curved across her lips. She had her hands on the second button when he finally took the bait and took over for her, slipping the button through as he rested his temple against hers, watching more of her creamy skin appear.

"Can we go upstairs?" he asked before he got too far, a little breathless.

She nodded against him, shifting her weight until her body was completely pressed against his. He moved just enough for her to slide down, her body dragging against his, the layers between them doing little to hide the heat between them. With a little smile playing across her lips, she wordlessly took his hand and led him to the stairs, her hand trailing behind her as she guided him up.

No, this was definitely not a first date – and even if it were, she was happily making an exception this time because she had a feeling it would be her last first date for quite a while. Possibly forever.


End file.
